WHY PETA HATES ME... AND OTHER TALES OF ATTEMPTED MURDER

I live in an area of Perth known simply as “The Hills”

It is a range of hills that surrounds the city not dissimilar to the Hollywood Hills in LA. However my hills are peppered with national forests, water catchment areas, orchards and wineries. All of this nature brings with it an abundance of wildlife at levels not seen down on the suburban “flats”.

One night I was driving home from work and suddenly this big brown speckled mass of feathers flew into my windscreen, creating a gigantic THUD! and then disappeared.

I started to freak out. I turned around to look for any beings lying on the side of the road but there was nothing. My mind started to wonder what it could have been that I hit.

This may come to no surprise to many of you, but I have a bit of supernatural paranoia when it comes to driving through rural forest areas in the dark. I think that ghosts are going to pop out, aliens are going to land and crazed murders with hooks for hands are going bounce my severed head against the car roof.

Naturally my first instinct was one of fear.

“Oh my god, I just hit the Mothman! I just set off a prophecy. I don’t even have a signal on my phone to tell everyone I love them before I die!!!”

When I pulled my self together I deduced that it was not the Mothman, but was in fact a Kookaburra.

Yes, I just killed a Kookaburra. The guilt set in and I wished it was actually the Mothman.

A few days later, Stuart and I were driving home around midnight, going at full speed (90 km/h) I turned a bend and there were three kangaroos lined up across the road. Papa, Mama and Baby, in that order.

There was a slight space in between Papa Roo and Mama Roo, so I slammed on my breaks and aimed for that space, however Mama Roo kept bouncing forward and the space grew smaller and before I could say “Get out of the way”… THUD!!!!

Yes, that is right folks, I am the Australian equivalent to that hunter who killed Bambi’s mother.

For the next week, I felt awful. Those big sweet eyes and that poor orphaned Baby Roo, the widowed Papa Roo. I cried into my martini six times that week.

I cried into my martini so many times that I had to head down to the bottle shop to get a new bottle of vodka.

On the way home from the bottle shop, again at full speed, a wittle bunny wabbit comes wacing out of the woods and wight into my front tyre. I will spare you the details of how the wittle wabbit went flying through the air, but just know that I am still, two weeks on, having nightmares.

When I arrived home (and for the record I was not drunk driving that night. I was picking up the bottle of vodka because I ran out the night before) I asked Stuart,

“How many animals have you killed since we moved here?”

“None.”

So it is just me. I am an animal murderer.


WHICH TALE DO YOU WANT TO READ ABOUT NEXT? VOTE OVER THERE =======>

WHO WAS THE IDIOT THAT SET UP THIS POLL?

OK, as it turns out most of you (and I dare say ALL of you) are actually voting for every single topic. Who was the idiot that allowed for multiple selections?

Despite the relatively even number of votes for each tale, the current leader (by one vote)is "Why PETA Hates Me - and other tales of attempted murder".

Even though the poll is technically open for another 6 days, I am going to shut it down at an unspecified time and equally random which could be in 5 minutes or 5 hours depending on when the martinis kick in.

I NEED MENTAL METAMUCIL...

...and you are just the Nurse Nancy to give it to me!

Crazy and wonderful things are happening that I would love to share, but for a week or two every time I sat down to write about them the best I could come up with was

"Today I saw a cat. The cat was cute. The cat was black. I like the cat."

Now, so many things have happened that I don't even know where to begin.

So I am leaving it up to you to decide.

Over there on the right is a poll with many topics that I would like to share. Just vote for which one you want to know about the most. The topic with the most votes gets written about first.

Without further ado, vote..... NOW!

PS - Happy Birthday to Pumpkin Delight.

UPDATE

PSS - BY POPULAR DEMAND / OUTRAGE AT NOT OFFERING THE HOT DOG WALK AS A VOTING OPTION, I WANTED TO STATE ON THE RECORD, THAT I WILL BE SHARING THAT DAY WITH YOU, BUT IN A VERY SPECIAL WAY, WHICH IS ALSO HULA HANK FIRST.

HEY, MICKEY!

I teach "mature" adult education courses.

I cannot really explain how I got involved with this part of my career as it really has nothing to do with any role I have had in the past, I think it had something to do being bribed by homemade shortbread cookies.

This teaching experience has introduced me to, how can I say, some of the most awful people I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. We won't focus on them now,in the scheme of life, they don't matter.

Instead let's talk about the ray of sunshine that appeared in my classroom. The current semester has brought me one of the most fabulous people I have ever met. Everyone in class hates her, but that is why I like her.

Her name is Mickey. She is around 85 years old, wears only pink hats with roses, pink gloves, bright pink blush, blue eyeshadow and pink lipstick. Last week, she was carrying around a coffee mug full of lavender she picked from some one's garden.

I was 10 minutes into the lesson when she walked in the room and said, "Sorry I'm late. I've been so goddamn sick."

Did I mention that this particular semester is being held in a church?

After class, she pulled me aside to give me this advice, "Why are you doing these classes? You have volunteered yourself to help the community... You're an asshole! Why would you do such a thing?"

"You have become a slave to these commitments. I am a butterfly that floats on the winds of life. There are people who like to pull the wings off of butterflies, but fuck 'em."

How true.

GOLFING ENTENDRES (DEDICATED TO JLO)

I need to interrupt the exceptionally long trip to the bottle shop for a very important post on things I overheard while golfing yesterday.

It was my first time golfing without a windmill and clown's mouth, but we will go in to that during a later post.

First I want to share with you why I was unable to keep a straight face the entire day.

The following was said in true golfing sincerity:

"Did you bring your balls?"
"I've lost my balls."
"My balls are covered in sand."
"Hey guys do any of you have yellow balls?"
"I just kept dropping my balls in the lake."
"You put your balls in that and it washes them for you."

And finally, the winner is:

"My balls kept disappearing in the bush."